


We'll Meet Again

by GoodJanet



Category: Late Night Host RPF
Genre: Angst, Apocalypse, Guns, Kissing, M/M, Mercy Killing, Sad, Supernatural Elements, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 06:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8152138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodJanet/pseuds/GoodJanet
Summary: Stephen knew better. Jon Stewart was a good man. Jon Stewart was a reasonable man. Jon Stewart loved him unconditionally.





	

"Jon, don't. Don't make me do this," Stephen pleads, shotgun aimed right at his chest.

Jon gives him a ghost of a smile. Stephen think he'd almost buy it were it not for the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Jon giggles when he catches Stephen staring, and Stephen represses the urge to vomit.

"Stephen, what are you even talking about? It's me. It's Jon Stewart! We worked together, remember?"

Jon takes a step forward, and Stephen takes the safety off. Jon growls, but he covers it with a self-deprecating noise. He puts his hand in the air.

"Alright," Jon says, taking a step back, hands still up. "Alright. Tensions are running high right now. I get it. What does Johnny Stew have to do to prove you don't need to have that thing pointed at me?"

Stephen swallows hard, and his hands sweat. He notices Jon's eyes flick down at them as they slide against the trigger and barrel of the gun. It's unnerving how much he picks up now. He had heard that people of Jon’s kind could pick up on even minute detail that might help them attack their prey. Stephen never thought Jon would look at him like that though, no matter how far gone he was. The one small blessing was that Jon's eyes were no longer their usual vibrant blue. They were yellow. Like the others. He had to keep reminding himself that he wasn’t really talking to his friend right now.

"Where did you take them, Jon?"

It gives Jon pause. Most people weren’t so direct with him anymore. Most people didn’t remain _alive_ long enough to be direct with him. Jon humors him.

"Who?"

Stephen cocks back the hammer of the gun.

"Jon, please," he begs. "Tell me where you're keeping them, and I won't tell anyone that I saw you or where you went. The Jon Stewart I know doesn't kidnap people and hurt them."

That was putting it mildly, but Stephen didn't want to anger him.

"Right," Jon snaps, voice deeper than Stephen was used to ever hearing. "Like you wouldn't shoot me the second I took you to my den. You're a liar, Colbert! You always were jealous of me and my work and my success, and this is no different. You just want them for your own selfish reasons!"

And now Stephen is sure there is nothing left of the Jon he knew inside this creature who wears his friend's face. It doesn't make his job any easier.

"Tell me where John, Sam, and the others are, Jon," he says with an air of authority he doesn't quite feel.

Not-Jon smirks and confidently takes three strides until he's right upon Stephen. He grabs the barrel of the shotgun and places it directly over his heart.

"The silver bullet thing is actually true, you know. It's how they finally killed off Conan. I’m sure you already know that though."

"Jon," Stephen whispers, heart breaking.

"It's not too late for us, you know. That promise we made. I could change you. Even creatures of the night can host late night news shows."

Stephen knows he’d be tempted had all television stations not shut down nearly five years ago now.

“Their families are worried about them. Tell me where you’re hiding them.”

Not-Jon shakes his head like he’s disappointed. He looks down at the ground, and when he looks back up, he’s practically snarling.

“What makes you so sure that any of them are still alive?”

When Stephen had volunteered for the job, he had seriously considered the idea that he could save the old team _and_ Jon a plausible one. He saw the looks on the faces of his fellow survivors and ignored them. He knew better. Jon Stewart was a good man. Jon Stewart was a reasonable man. Jon Stewart loved him unconditionally. He would show them...

“You know, Jon, I—”

He chokes on the lump in his throat and on the tears desperate to escape.

“Tell me, baby.”

Stephen laughs once in spite of himself. It had been so long since he heard Jon say something silly and sultry and playful like that. This shifter certainly knew how to handle him.

“I don’t want to kill you.”

“Then don’t,” Not-Jon says.

He sidesteps Stephen’s gun, and Stephen lets it drop to his side.

“Jon.”

Not-Jon grins. Stephen was falling for it, just like all the others had. It was so easy.

Whoever this "Jon" had been in his past life, Not-Jon observes, he was surrounded by impressionable suckers. All that was left to do now was to go in for the kill...

“C’mere, baby. You won't even feel it.”

And Stephen does. He had no reason to resist. Why _shouldn't_ he let Not-Jon change him? Stephen is just about to lean in towards Not-Jon when a shotgun goes off, sending Jon flying away from him. Jon lands in a crumpled heap, and he doesn’t move.

Stephen tries not to think about the fact that Jon's blood is now spattered all over him. Instead, Stephen looks in every direction, trying to discern who had done the deed. When Rob Riggle steps out from behind a shattered wall, Stephen feels ashamed.

“I-I couldn’t—I just couldn’t—”

Rob puts a hand on Stephen’s shoulder.

“We know, Stephen,” he says solemnly. "It's okay."

It hits him then.

He was never supposed to be the one to kill Not-Jon.

He was the bait. He had inadvertently volunteered to be the bait because not even Not-Jon could keep away from Stephen, and vice versa. That had been their plan all along, and he was an idiot.

“You understand why we couldn’t tell you," Rob says, and it's not a question.

Stephen nods his head, eyes wide, still not processing fully what had just happened.

“Are you okay?” Rob asks.

Stephen looks back at Jon’s body. He’s quiet for a moment, and Rob lets the silence hang.

“I want to bury him,” Stephen finally says.

“His den is nearby. We’re checking to see who’s unchanged. That should give you enough time.”

Was there such a thing as enough time to mourn Jon Stewart? Stephen certainly didn’t think so. Unafraid, he walks over to the body of his friend and sees that his eyes are open in surprise.

Blue, Stephen notes. He kneels down. They are blue. For some reason this makes him begin crying in earnest, and his tears make little pockets in the gravel and sand beneath them. Before he can bear to bury Jon for good, he goes through Jon’s pockets. He keeps Jon’s driver’s license because it’s the only photo he’s got of him now, and Jon’s pocket square, which even Not-Jon seemed to think was important to wear, even at the end of the world, even when Jon’s suit was in tatters.

Stephen reaches his hand up and gently shuts Jon’s eyes. If Stephen didn’t know better, Jon was merely sleeping and would wake up and shout with joy at finally being reunited, just like they always said they would.

_“When they finally figure out how to cure this shit, you know what we should do?” Jon asks._

_“What?” Stephen replies._

_“We should have we-survived-the-apocalypse sex.”_

_Jon takes a swig of one of their last beers and grins like the cat who got the cream._

_“Something tells me that you’ve been looking for an opening to proposition me, and this whole creature-pocalypse is the perfect excuse.”_

_Jon giggles uncontrollably._

_“Is that such a bad thing? Wanting you? Looking forward to being with you after all this is over might just be the thing that keeps me going!”_

_Stephen grins and laughs._

_“You know what? Sure. But only after all this is over. No cheating and trying to seduce me beforehand!”_

_  
“Well, if the last fifteen years hasn’t convinced you..."_

_“You drive a hard bargain, but I can hold out a few more months. Deal?” Stephen asks._

_Jon pulls him in for a deep, messy kiss._

_“Deal,” Jon confirms._

Stephen puts the final rocks over Jon’s body before leaving a tiny stone where the headstone should be. Stephen says a prayer for him, and he hopes God forgives him for not knowing any Hebrew. Footsteps approach, and he knows his time with Jon is up.

“We’ll meet again,” Stephen silently promises.

Rob gently leads him away.


End file.
